


Like Phantoms Forever

by likephantomsforever



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Please be nice, danger days, guess what boys they no longer look the same, i've got like ten chapters lined up from the get go, mcrs back y'all, poison gets brainwashed in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22640716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likephantomsforever/pseuds/likephantomsforever
Summary: There's always been the Killjoys, desert dwellers fighting against the wrath of Better Living Industries. Always been the Barrowmans, the leading figures of that very company, preaching to the converted of the dangers of the Killjoys.So how, exactly, did two Barrowmans become members of the most famous Killjoy clan to ever live?It's a story fit for the Phoenix Witch herself…
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Kobra Kid/Turbulent/Double Dare
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	1. Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

**\---POISON’S POV---**

When Poison woke up, the first thing they noticed was that their hair was short. Then they noticed that they were in a white cell, with a white bench along the wall. There was a white ceramic sink and a white ceramic mirror.

They squinted at their reflection - _fuckers took my contact lenses out_ \- before realising.

Their hair was black.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

It was standard Better Living procedure. Anyone with seemingly unnatural hair colours like ginger or blonde has it dyed black at the age of thirteen. Poison remembered a boy called Patrick coming into maths with jet black where once was mousey blonde. A week later he was gone. Poison was an exception - their bleached blonde hair made them noticed, which was what the city wanted.

They swallowed, and their Adam's apple pushed against their throat

This escape had definitely gone Costa Rica, as the _actual_ Killjoys would say.

They thought Kobra. Kobra.. their kid brother.

" _Ty- Kobra- just go! Fucking run, I'll hold them back!_ "

This was their fucking fault, _all their fucking fault_ , Kobra was probably fucking _dead_ or _rotting_ or _draculised_ or _imprisoned_ and it was _ALL THEIR FUCKING FAULT ITS ALL YOUR FAULT YOUR UNCLE WAS FUCKING RIGHT!_

They clutched at the space around their ears where their hair once was and cried, a bitter choking sob until their eyes burnt and their throat was red raw.

Poison and Kobra weren't their actual names. If you heard _Party Poison_ and _Kobra Kid_ you'd think nothing of it. Just a couple of rebels. But the Barrowman name had a lot more meaning.

The Barrowmans were a very rich, very famous and very influential family, living in Battery City Towers in the Jade Quarter and working high up in the Better Living Industries ranks since the company began. The two sons, Alex and Tyler Barrowman, were supposed to become Head of Interrogation and Head Scarecrow, taking the place of their father and nephew.

Except here was Alex Barrowman, sat in a jail cell, hands still stained with Manic Panic Poison Red hair dye. 

They sat knees up on the bench, hoping Tyler- no, Kobra - was okay. They'd got his name from a jacket they stole from a thrift store in Beryllium District.

_"Dude, look at this!"_

_Alex turned to see Tyler - Tyler, in his baggy hoodie and ripped jeans - wearing an old racer style jacket, all red and black stripes with a snake patch on the chest. Down the arm was written K O B R A. "Kobra.. that'd be a fucking sick name." Alex brought his voice down. Even in the scummiest of districts, you could never be too careful._

The electric gate that kept prisoners in shutting off made Poison look up.

Fuck. 

His uncle, Head Exterminator Korse Barrowman, the man he was supposed to become, was stood there, flanked by two Draculoids. “Uncle-” 

Korse flicked his head slightly and one of the Draculoids grabbed Poison harshly, hauling him out of the room. Korse followed them but didn’t say a word to the boy whose eyes would be the colour of his hair right now if Better Living hadn’t got a hold of him. He clearly wouldn't be getting any special treatment.

All he could hope was that Kobra was safe. Not lost, not dead. Just safe.

**\---KOBRA’S POV---**

_Oh fuck. I am so fucking lost._

Kobra knew he should have taken a left, but he thought the right turn would kind of compensate. He saw a sign for the Aluminium District, but that didn’t make sense, because that was East, and he was sure he was West and- Wait, was that the same PLUS stand he’d seen a few minutes ago?

He stopped, leant against a wall, and tried to catch any breath he had left in his lungs. Why the fuck did he leave his inhaler again? Oh yeah, because it was filled with the same drugs he had to take under ten different names for years. Fucks sake.

There was the anger again. Withdrawals were kicking his ass. He went for the nearest door and pushed it open. As soon as he entered, he wanted to leave again.

It was a Neon Bar. Neon was a drug, produced in the Neon district out of PLUS acid and whatever other shit made it glow neon pink and create a high that made you feel invincible.

A seedy looking bartender was dishing out small bowls of the stuff and needles that could maybe pass as slightly clean. People were slumped against the wall, swimming in the high, while Pornodroids danced on poles and men and girls alike. He walked towards the bar at the end of the room - only to ask for information - when he saw a guy sitting on his own. He has a layer of sweat over his skin, a signature sign of being on Neon. and was rolling up his already rolled up sleeve even more. He had old and new scars dotted all up the arm. The back of his jacket read ‘THIS IS OUR CULTURE’. It was at this point that Kobra made a decision.

He slid into the seat opposite him. “Hey! Stop that, you’ll kill yourself!”

The man looked up, half way through injecting himself . He looked around the same age as Kobra, with sunken eyes and sweaty brown ringlets that fell over his face. He slurred something that sounded like “..sound just like Benzedrine…” before continuing, but Kobra couldn’t properly tell. He pulled the bowl over to him and looked at the substance, moving around like molten metal. “Do you even know what's in this shit?”

Before he could finish, three guys wearing identical denim jackets walked in. They looked the same as the one the drugged up guy was wearing. It didn’t take them long to spot him. And Kobra. The tanned one, who was wearing some sort of fedora, approached them. The pale young one and the one with the blue hair followed close behind.

“Here again, Sandman?”

“Why put a new address on the same old loneliness, old man?” The drugged up guy, who Kobra guess was Sandman, said.

“Dude, I’m five years younger than you.” The tanned one said, rolling his eyes before looking towards Kobra. “Fancy helping us haul ass out of here?”

“Sure.” He said, standing up. Maybe it’ll help me figure out where I am. And find Poison.

The tanned man hauled this ‘Sandman’ to his feet and Kobra took the other arm.

Kobra emerged into the cool dark night of Battery City. A siren could be heard somewhere nearby - not surprising as they were in the Districts. The tanned guy told them they needed to head through Carbon District where they could get a back alley shortcut to Bismuth. Kobra didn’t know why they needed to head to Bismuth or what for, but he was focusing more on what felt like a two-tonne weight on his shoulders at the moment. They thankfully didn’t bump into any Draculoids that would recognise Kobra as the guy who shot his uncle in the arm or Sandman and the others as… whoever they were.

Eventually they met the flickering neon sign welcoming you to Bismuth District, with the usual 'FUCK BETTER LIVING' graffiti around it. They kept moving until they came across a cobwebbed PLUS stand. It wasn't even inhabited anymore.

"Round here." the tannes guy urged. When they got into a small cramped space behind it, the youngest guy opened up a grate at their feet. It took all four of them to get Sandman down it into the dark. Kobra shivered and pulled his jacket further over him with his free hand. Not only was it cold, but he hated the dark. 

In the dark, they found a door. When they got it open it led to a small room full of still-lit candles with two bunk beds. there was a cupboard, a small mat on the floor, a mirror and a sink. _Mornings must be fun down here_ , Kobra thought, helping the blonde guy to put Sandman on a bed. Kobra straightened up and looked at the two people he was left with. "So what was that about? And who are you guys, anyway?" He tried not to shoot off lines like an interrogator.

"Neon." The blue haired one said. "Sandmans addicted to that stuff. Most have alc or weed down here - Sandy has neon. That's what happens when you come to and from the desert all the time and know the wrong people I guess."

There was a groan as Sandmam flipped him off.

"Anyway, introductions, yeah. I'm Lucky Horseshoe, that's Gold Standard." The youngest smiled at Kobra. "The guy who just left, thats Doctor Benzedrine, and that crash queen on the bed is Mister Sandman himself."

Suddenly, Doctor Benzedrine came in rolling an IV Drip alongside them. "I swear, if Sandman keeps doing this when we come to the City it's gonna kill him. Or use up all my IV. Whichever comes first."

He stabbed Sandman with some sort of needle to knock him out and begun filling him with dTox - a liquid produced to soberise someone and begin the detox process. Kobra sat on the bed opposite, watching closely.

"Hey." Benzedrine said, back still turned. "What's your name, kid?"

"Kobra.. Kobra Kid."

"Well, Kobra Kid.." Benzedrine turned to him slightly. "You may have just helped save his life."

_Yeah_ .. Kobra thought. _At the sacrifice of getting out of here_.

**\---SANDMAN'S POV---**

A hazy canvas swum into Mister Sandman's view as he woke up.

He also had one dusty headache and his arm throbbed. He propped himself up on one elbow and felt the IV that was stuck in his arm tug a little.

_Fucking of course._

He looked across and saw the boy from yesterday, from inside the Neon bar. He was slumped asleep against the wall on the bunk next to him, in what looked like a mismatch of a smart shirt, ripped jeans, muddy trainers and a red styled jacket. To top off the look was some dusty bright blonde hair, messily settled around his ears. Sandman could tell he was a new Killjoy - and wondered if he knew what he was getting himself into. "Kid- hey! Kid!"

The boy groaned and sat up. "Al..?" he mumbled before rubbing his eyes. "..Nevermind.."

"Who's Al?"

"None of your business."

The kid looked like he was about to fucking punch him, so Sandman thought fast. "You ever been to an Undercity Concert?"

"What? No. All I've heard about concerts is that some old classical musicians used to do them."

"Oh, man!" Sandman's face lit up. "Have I got stuff to fucking show! Anarchist's doing a show in like fifteen minutes - I think - and all the immigrant kids and teens seem to fucking love him. You must be what.. fifteen?"

"Sixteen." Kobra mumbled.

"See, you're his target audience! Come on, killjoy, live a little!"

Kobra fiddled with his thumbs. "Doctor Benzedrine said I had to stay and watch you."

Sandman laughed. "Firstlys, you can just call him Benze. Me Sandman, Gold Standard's just Gold and Lucky Horseshoe is just Horshshoe. Secondlys, you'll still be _technically_ watching me. It'll just be at a dope ass concert."

Kobra looked pissed. "Okay, look, I'm only here because I helped your ass out in the districts. If you weren't a fucking drug addict, I'd be out in the desert right now. So fine, I'll go to this fucking concert, but only because I want to, not because of you."

**\---KOBRA'S POV---**

Kobra was not convinced. In fact, he was more on the brink of a panic attack as he sped down candlelit corridors following Sandman. Sandman looked like a deflated sack of potatoes as most did after a night on dTox, but he was certainly doing a good job at acting fine.

The entire place was silent. Kobra could scarcely believe that there was supposed to be a concert happening down here. 

Sandman forced a set of double-doors. Some piano music started playing almost instantly, and Sandman forced Kobra through the crowd of shadowed people to the front. Someone who sounded very much British started singing. Kobra took this opportunity to slip away from the asshole.

_"I see pictures in my head.._ "

After a few more lines, the lights turned on and a terrifying looking person jumped out from behind a black curtain. His hair was all over the place and bright pink, he had a bandana around his neck and about ten chain necklaces, and most notably he was wearing the (unbuckled) top half of a straight jacket, over a leather jacket and a fishnet shirt.

Kobra found himself jumping up and down in minutes. He spent time when he wasnt jumping looking around at the other Killjoys. They were all incredible looking, ray guns at hip, with studded belts and makeup and barely a single normal hair colour in sight.

_So this is what being a Killjoy's like._

Everything was fine - in fact, Kobra was having the time of his fucking life - until Anarchist was singing a song called - well, Anarchist. 

"COME ON, EVERYBODY JUMP JUMP JUMP! FUCK BARROWMAN, FUCK BARROWMAN, FUCK BARROWMAN!"

As the chant continued, Kobra felt his heart sink even more and hoped his new jacket and hair would at least help hide who he was somewhat. He joined in the chants aggressively, when he noticed who he was stood next to.

This must have been the brightest trio of Killjoys Kobra ever did see. One had a bright yellow jacket with blue cherry bombs painted onto it, one wore what could be classed as a purple suit with a fucking leather jacket, and one had fucking bright green rollerskates on to match his hair.

"Oh, hey." They all said in unison upon seeing him stare.

"Hey." Kobra said, trying to seem cool and nonchalant but just looking like a sweaty stick with bad posture.

"All the 'Joys in Battery City look like you from a distance.." The one with the rollerblades said, tying his hair into a messy bun with ease. "But you're definitely different. What's your name?"

"Ty- Kobra. Kid. What about all of you? Look like you got in a fight with a paint factory and lost."

Suit-boy laughed. "I'm Entertainment. That's Turbulent." He indicated the one with the green messy bun

"And I'm Double Dare." The yellow and blue boy said. "Your jackets really cool. You should come get drink with us from the bar, EDEN's there and he does sick fuckin uhhhhh.. cocktails. Come on snake boy, lets gooo."

"Apologies. Dare talks too much." Entertainment said as he rubbed his hand over his buzzcut awkwardly.

"You don't talk enough." Dare pouted. He had about four lip piercings, one inside his lip.

"I'd love to go." Kobra said, finally managing to get a word in edgeways.

"Yes!" Turbulent punched the air. "Sorry, I was silently hoping you'd agree. I like to hide with my words." 

The group moved towards a small stand with a huge sign saying "BAR" on top of it. They managed to get onto two stalls - Dare and Turbulent were sitting on eachother, Turbulent eating Dare's face off. Entertainment was standing. Under the lights, Kobra noticed Dare's short pixie cut was dark blue, and he had even more piercings - up his ears, on his septum, on his eyebrow, even guages on his lobes. He stuck his tongue out at Kobra and, low and behold, had a tongue piercing.

The cocktails were an interesting experience. Kobra had never had alcohol before, as it was typically banned in the City, and as much as it tasted sharp and bitter it also had other flavours. This one was apple and cherry. 

Turbulent wasn't drinking. Kobra offered, but he shook his head. "Dealing with this shit sober's got me fucked up a lot, but keeps my mind clear. Lets me live in the moment." He looked at Dare who was chatting away to Entertainment. "Appreciate what I've got, all that shit."

It didn't take much for the gang (minus Turbulent) to get pretty drunk, as they yelled along to songs, danced with eachother, and Turbulent and Dare looked like they'd need to be surgically removed at the tongues by the time Anarchist was singing a song called '21st Century Liability'.

"Hey!" Turbulent said, pulling Kobra into a sort-of-hug. He seemed to be drunk on the atmosphere, just like he said he would be. "You- you should fucking come to the desert with us tonight. We only came here for the concert but like you're fuckin _dope_ man."

Behind him, Dare mouthed ' _say yes_ ' and let go of Turbulent long enough to do two thumbs up.

Then, of course, _someone_ killed the party

"Kobra!" Sandman emerged out of the crowd. "What the fuck, Kid? I've been panicking since half way through the concert!"

"Oh, I left lonnggg before that, don't worry." Kobra smirked.

"Did they get you fucking _drunk_?"

"Hey, he chose to have some!" The other three said defensively.

Turbulent pointed at Sandman. "Right, who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm the one who feels guilty and pissed off with you because you've fucking manipulated him into being on your side."

"Riiight, I've got some advice for you. Uhh.. go _fuck yourself_ anddd _fuck your feelings_!"

Sandman punched Turbulent in the jaw, before forcing Kobra through the crowd.

They reached the door only to be faced by a stern looking Doctor Benzedrine. 

"Oh! Hey Benze!" Sandman said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sandman." He nodded, before simply turning around and walking out. Kobra and Sandman followed in dead silence, Kobra shooting glares at Sandman, who still hadn't let go of his arm. As they entered their room, Horseshoe went to crack a joke but then must have sensed that you could cut the tension in the air with a fucking knife.

As soon as the door closed, Benzedrine fucking exploded. But surprisingly, not at Kobra. At Sandman.

"What the FUCK, Sands! If it's not bad enough that you were nearly fucking overdosed on Neon last night, you decide to start the shitty ass day by swinging the Kid to your fucking dumbass point of view, and _then_ he FUCKING WANDERS OFF. If they'd fucking known an unwelcomed Cityborn was in that concert hall he wouldn't have fucking left it, no matter what your fucking Neon induced bravado tells you!" He took a deep breath. "Grab your shit. We're fucking going, now."

It was Kobra's turn to speak up. "No."

"Excuse me?" 

"No. Not without my brother."

"Kid, you're not safe here anymore-"

"Neithers my fucking brother!"

"The point is-"

"Point? Point? I'm taking my brother, alive."

"I'm afraid you really don't have a choice." He took something out of a briefcase. "We are leaving, now."

"NOT WITHOUT ALEX!"

**\---GHOUL'S POV---**

_Daniel Rogers was a Tube Rat. The child of a mother who needed the carbons. Since he was five he's been tested on. New drugs, new weapons, new ways to bend people to the will of Better Living Industries._

_This time, the person experimenting on him was burning him, right over his heart. Dan writhed in agony, pushing against his restraints, when the torturers mask fell down to reveal the face of his mother_

Dan awoke with a start. He didn't even scream anymore. He looked around, and tried to compose himself in time for the readily approaching footsteps to cart him off to whatever new punishment he had to serve for existing.

When the gate shut off, a body was kicked inside which instantly fell to the floor. Then the gate zapped back into life and the footsteps receded.

_Okay, this is new._

Dan nervously approached the boy who was curled up on the floor sobbing. He didn't want to touch him, incase this was a trap, so just spoke.

"Are you okay?"

The boy looked up. He glared at Dan. "Fuck do you care?"

"I'm just trying to help, Destroya's sake. This isn't the first time I've shared a cell." He noticed the code tattooed onto the boys forearm - **005K-AAB17.** The K stood for Killjoy. "Or shared one with a Killjoy."

The boy sat up now. "The fuck do you know about Killjoys?"

Dan sat across from the boy. "I know you hate Better Living Industries as much as me. I know you want them dead. I know you come from the desert. I've never even seen the city properly."

"You've been here your whole life?"

"Yep. Tube Rat. Name’s Dan, but you can call me Danny."

"It's okay.." The boy said. "My brother will get us out of here.. if hes even still alive." 

"He's probably not." Dan said matter-of-factly. "If you haven't seen him in any cells, he either escaped or died."

The boy froze up.

"But hey.." Dan continued, going to sit back on the bench. "At least you're getting a bed at the end of this. I'm never getting out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was so longggg the others will b shorter!


	2. Without You Is How I Disappear

**\---POISON'S POV---**

_ He's probably not _ .

The words rang in their head, stabbing like knives. They imagined Kobra, skin nearly translucent, one arm holding a blood-covered shirt and one sprawled out, blood running through the gutters of Argon District, face unmoving, heterochromatic eyes unblinking as he was slipped into a body bag and left in the desert to rot.

Poison should never have encouraged him.

The gate shut off and Poison didn't fight Draculoids grabbing them and hauling them down the hall behind his uncle. When he forced the teenager into a room and they saw their father, that was when they freaked out.

Their father was probably going to fucking kill them.

"Alexander!" Their father snapped after they were shoved into a chair and handcuffed. "You are acting like a child! Look at me. Look at me!"

Poison glared at their father, eyes full of hate. "Bite me."

Their father rolled his eyes and tutted a little. "What have they done to you.." Suddenly, he slapped Poison across the face. "You know how much work this will cost to cover up? I have to pretend one of my sons never attempted this bullshit, and the other one never made it out of the City to become.. what was it you wrote in your journals? The Kobra Kid?" He sneered saying those final two words.

Poison sat up. "Kobra's alive?" Finally, some hope.

" _ Tyler  _ is alive, yes. On the run, in fact. But we’ll be able to put a stop to that eventually." 

Poison punched the desk. "I swear, if any of you so much as harm a hair on my brother's head, I'll fucking strangle you."

Mr Barrowman breathed through his teeth. "Physical and verbal violence, swearing, refusal to accept reality.. you really are a textbook terrorist. And don't worry.."

Poison's uncle suddenly put a chloroform soaked rag over their mouth and nose. As the Killjoy was pulled under unwillingly, their father said one final thing, turning away from them.

"It won't be us doing the killing."

When they woke up, they were strapped into a chair and hooked up to several drips. They looked around and saw a glass window. Beyond, was their father and uncle again - along with some random Draculoids. It took a second for them to begin to violently struggle, and a second more for one of the bags to start emptying into them.

The effects were instant. Their limbs began to feel heavy and their head drooped. They had to fight to keep their eyes open, and it seemed to affect their mind as well, leaving them in a pleasant state of numbness. 

The effect of the chemicals in that particular drip was that they couldn't tell what was a command or what was their own brain telling them to do something. This made it easy for Poison's father to ask questions and get answers. After he got the basics, he got to work with the pain.

Poison was still in this numb state when they arrived back at their shared cell, though it was mixed with pain from the open wounds dotting their body.

Dan darted over to them and Poison flinched away.

"Hey." Dan said, surprisingly good at the whole soft voice thing. "Hey, hey, look at me. Eyes on mine." Poison's eyes were rimmed with tears. All they could get out was "He's alive.." before beginning to sob. Dan held him tight and rubbed his back, stroking the back of his hair a little. It was what his mother used to do. Dan just kept mumbling "It's okay, they're not here, you're okay.."

“I’m so fucking scared, Dan.. They’re gonna get me to kill him, I don’t wanna hurt him, he’s my brother…”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I'll never let them hurt you, I promise..”

Eventually the two slipped into an uneasy sleep, not knowing what would await them the next day.

  
\-----------

They were only awoken by the gate shutting down. A random Exterminator walked in and forced the two boys apart before a Draculoid put down trays of food. Poison was fucking starving - it must have been three days since they last ate.

Dan looked at his plate. “I’m not hungry.” He pushed it back into the Draculoid's hands. The Draculoid gave it back. Dan gave it back. This little charade continued for a few minutes before the Exterminator snapped. "Mr Rogers, you must eat! That's an order! We don't need to take you to see Mr. Barrowman, do we?"

Dan's face slackened a little but he held his ground. "No. You can't make me." 

He glanced at Poison and then at the still-open gate. As voices raised and the argument between Dan and the Exterminator got more volatile, Poison made a dash for it. The Exterminator yelled at them to come back before hitting a button that set off an alarm in the building. They didn't care, they kept running. They got up two staircases when they heard a door open behind them. Turning their head to see who was coming after them now, they didn't notice Korse standing there.

Until they'd literally ran into him.

"Alexander.." Korse leered, before grabbing Poison tight into a chokehold. Three Exterminators were watching from the end of the corridor.

"Back to work!" Korse yelled, before sticking something in the side of Poison's neck, causing them to black out.

**\---POISON'S POV---**

Party Poison had been in rehabilitation for four days. They'd be woken up, dragged down the halls, hooked up to drips that numbed their mind and told the truth about the Killjoys

Poison was terrified of the truth. How had they ever wanted to be one of these monsters?

They'd get taken back to their cell and sit the rest of their day away. Dan would stare into space, headphones on. Better Living had not been happy with his behaviour.

On the fourth day, they got hooked up to a different set of drips. 

"Korse."

"Attitude, Mr Barrowman." Their uncle said fiercely.

Poison pressed back into the chair. "What are these ones doing?"

"The same. Helping you. We just.. needed a new batch." He smiled his eerie smile and left the room.

When the drips started emptying, they didnt feel the same. They hurt their head, badly. The voice began but it wasn't saying the usual things.

"You never wanted to be a Killjoy. You never helped your brother. You never called yourself Party Poison." Then Poison screamed as the cuffs attached to his wrists sent shocks through them.

This pain repeated and continued for hours until finally all of the bags were empty. They were unhooked from the shocked-still teenager before they themselves were taken down the hall. They passed their cell, though and entered a door marked TO2. The teen was sat down in front of a black-haired lady who introduced herself as Lindsey.

"Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions. What is your name?"

They.. didn't know how to answer. The tendrils of their brain tried to grab at.. something.. but it slipped away.

"Your name is Alexander Barrowman. You're an eighteen year old boy, correct?"

Alex nodded. That must be right. He couldn't remember any different.

"So, tell me about your brother..."

The session ended after Lindsey was satisfied, and Alex was finally returned to his cell.

The next day, the pain got worse, and the words began affirming how good Better Living was. Alex thought, by the end of it, that he loved Better Living.

_ They do nothing but protect us _ , he thought. That thought made him very happy.

The day after, he started getting medication again. But the rehabilitation got stranger. He was pumped full of three things at once, and felt chunks of his memory being locked away and lost. The voice only said one thing, so the shocks were stronger and constant.

"You don't have a brother. You don't have a brother. You don't have a brother. You don't have a brother."

On the seventh day, he was only given an order. "You must kill any Killjoy without mercy." Alex agreed mindlessly. Killjoys were evil, and this was Better Living, so they must be right. He started wearing the headphones every hour of the day, enjoying the static which quietly whispered.  _ I love Better Living Industries, don't you? Emotions are a waste of time and a cause of war. Always remember to take your medication! _

On the eighth day, Alex ate breakfast and waited for them to arrive, but they never came. The food also seemed to make Alex really thirsty, and he yelled over the static in his ears for water. Korse himself delivered the water and Alex took it. "Thank you, uncle."

Korse left, taking Frank with him.

Alex drank all the water within a minute. After another minute, he started feeling dizzy. The dizziness produced dark pixels in his periforels, which filled the rest of his sight.

He was out before he hit the ground.

  
\------------

Alex woke up in a soft bed, in white cotton pyjamas. He got changed into the uniform of the Exterminators, brushed his teeth, slicked his platinum blonde hair back and took three pills from his prescribed bottles. 

Downstairs, his mother smiled artificially at him as he entered the kitchen. "Good morning, Alexander! You got back late last night, how was your holiday?"

Alex remembered his holiday. He'd been staying at a small bungalow near a park in Willow Region for about a week, doing his work in peace and quiet. "Yes, it was very productive, mother."

He ate some simple food and got into his private taxi to Battery City Base One. It was only a five minute drive. On the way, he listened to an emotionless concerto piece on his headphones

When he arrived, he was immediately summoned to Korse's office. He knocked before entering and stood in a respectful position before he turned around. "Ah, Alexander, hello!"

"Hello, sir." Alex greeted blandly.

**\---KORSE'S POV---**

Korse smiled. Alexander had ended up being one of the best rehabilitations yet. Here he was, emotionless, mind slicked with drugs, obedient. Exactly how he was supposed to be. "I have a very.. special mission for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH dEaR thass not goooood guys
> 
> also i changed they appearances !!! no rpf in this house
> 
> well
> 
> fic
> 
> im workin on a rpf danger days thingy that does actually have mcr in it tho!


End file.
